


tranquil as a forest (but on fire within)

by acrossthesky_instars



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Mulan (1998) Fusion, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 07:59:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5860672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acrossthesky_instars/pseuds/acrossthesky_instars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>bellamy asks for sons, and clarke shows him why he might actually want daughters </p>
<p>the mulan AU that noone actually wants</p>
            </blockquote>





	tranquil as a forest (but on fire within)

**Author's Note:**

> so it turns out i'm not actually handling season 3 all that well (feel free to come join me in my endless crying) but I thought i'd channel it into something that's definitely not my dissertation and here we are.   
> obviously i had to change a few bits around but no offense intended (please don't be too harsh i'm fragile)  
> besides li shang and bellamy blake are basically the loves of my life so....
> 
> (title from the classic banger i'll make a man out of you (dishonour on YOUR cow if you don't know it))

Historically, Clarke had been known to make crazy decisions when she got all these noble ideas in her head.

She’d always had the _smallest_ penchant for breaking rules.

Ironically- for this time at least- she was fairly sure her father’s genes were to blame.

But her hair still hung silky from her mother’s attempts to tug her- literally, by her hair- into her socialite life and her lips were still smudged crimson with tacky lipstick and all she could hear, over and over like an endless litany, was the chiming of bells and horse hooves, and her father: _you dishonour me, you dishonour me, you dishonour me_.

_I will fight_.

She knelt in front of their family Eden Tree and struck a match, the scratch loud in the silence but the resulting incense comforting. Her swinging hair lit up, gold, and she swept it out of her eyes impatiently.

She stared, for a long moment, at the three objects neatly placed between her and the tree like offerings. The tightly wrapped scroll was bound with a green ribbon, the small pot of red powder mocked her, but the sword- the sword _shone_.

Thunder cracked, and Clarke’s resolve hardened.

Her muscles strained against the unfamiliar weight of the sword when she lifted it carefully and she balanced it carefully in the palm of her hand for a moment.

The hair tightly grasped in her other hand was softer, lighter, _unbearable_ , but she was impossibly glad when the sword’s edge sliced through it relatively easily.

(Maybe there _was_ something to be said for Abby’s hair styling, after all.)

She loosened the ribbon from the scroll and tied it around the golden locks she’d cut off, so her mother would know.

The red powder felt odd scooped into her hands and odder rubbed into her scalp, but loosely twisting deliberately careless braids into dull red hair felt the oddest.

She wiped her palms on her dark trousers and freedom swam up in her throat. She swallowed it down, thinking of a dinner of spilt tea and Abby’s tears and her father’s cane, propped up against the table like the guest no one had invited.

The armour that she slowly pulled on, dented but gleaming, weighed on her much less than that.

Her horse was waiting, as if she’d known all along, and once she was saddled, there was really no reason to wait.

Clarke left her comb on the table, tucked into the swathes of blonde hair beside it.

She stroked a finger down the locks one last time, and then she rode off into the night.

 

* * *

 

_Ancestors, hear our prayer. Watch over Clarke._

 

Jasper and Monty were, as ever, coolly confident. Hundreds of years of hanging side by side like freaking _decorations_ over the Griffin family shrine with no hobbies other than ringing a _gong_ every few decades had given them plenty of time to plan their heroics.

And if their fire-breathing needed a little work, then, who really cared?

‘Great Stone Dragon, my arse,’ Jasper mumbled, and Monty puffed blue smoke out of his nostrils like it was mocking and not just wispy **.**

It was no joke, being the dragon equivalent of an asthmatic.

‘We’ll get her,’ Monty asserted instead, confident, and they bounced a little higher in unison.

Jasper nodded. ‘Bring honour on us both!’

‘On Clarke!’ Monty corrected, but he grinned all the same.

They high-fived, bright green scales complimenting burnt orange _perfectly_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

‘Okay, okay’ Clarke announced, and spun round, hands on her hips and stance wide. ‘How about this?’

She coughed once and lowered her voice until it grated her throat and sounded vaguely masculine. _Stupid traditions. Stupid gender roles. Stupid Mountain Men_.

‘Excuse me,’ she growled, ‘Where do I sign in? Ah- I see you have a sword. I have one, too. They’re very manly and tough.’ She groped slightly desperately for Jake’s sword in its scabbard and yanked it free only to drop it promptly on the forest floor.

There was a long moment of silence, but Clarke could swear that her horse was laughing at her.

‘I’m working on it!’ she said defensively, and Sky neighed, almost conciliatory but mostly derisive.

 She sighed. _Who am I fooling? It’s going to take a miracle to get_ me _into the army_.

There was a massive explosion, a flash of bright light, and then: ‘DID I HEAR SOMEONE CALL FOR A MIRACLE?’

(Clarke could have sworn she heard someone clap and cheer loudly.)

‘LET ME HEAR YOU SAY ‘AHHH’!’

Clarke screamed.

‘THAT’S CLOSE ENOUGH!’ the voice boomed, and Clarke watched as orange smoke curled wildly around her.

_Was that a_ dragon, _in the silhouette?_ Two _dragons?_ Clarke snuck a glance at Sky: _My mother was right; I am definitely losing my mind._

‘A ghost?’ Clarke murmured and she peered out from behind her hasty boulder-cover, curiosity winning because _goddammit_ it might’ve killed the cat but satisfaction brought it straight back to life.

‘GET READY, CLARKE! YOUR SERPENTINE SALVATION IS AT HAND! FOR WE HAVE BEEN SENT BY YOUR ANCESTORS, TO GUIDE YOU THROUGH YOUR MASQUERADE. SO HEED MY WORD, BECAUSE IF THE ARMY FINDS OUT YOU’RE A GIRL, THE PENALTY’- there was a short pause and the smoke bulged dramatically- ‘is DEATH!’

The smoke started to dissipate, and-

‘Jasper, that’s enough,’ a tiny emerald green lizard hopped up onto the boulder opposite Clarke’s and gestured- _gestured_ \- at her. ‘You’re freaking her out!’

Clarke stared and he rolled his small eyes at her. ‘ _Such_ a taste for the melodramatic.’

‘Well, can you blame me?’ said the booming voice, now booming at a much lower volume. ‘It’s not every day you get the chance to go on a crazy rescue mission and save your country!’

Another lizard appeared, this one a fiery orange, with its snout pointed imperiously in the air. Clarke could have sworn it was _smiling_. ‘I’m sure the _Chancellor_ will appreciate my talent.’

‘Who _are_ you?’ Clarke asked, and she heard the wonder in her own- thankfully normal- voice.

‘Who am I?’ the orange dragon pushed out its miniscule chest, ‘WHO AM I?’

‘Jasper!’ The green one whacked the orange one- Jasper?- on the back of his head before turning to Clarke and smiling, as gently as she supposed a lizard could. ‘ _We_ are the guardians of lost souls.’

‘Um,’ Clarke said, ‘my ancestors sent two little lizards to help me?’

‘Hey, dragon. DRAG-ON, not lizard.’ Jasper wagged a finger between then and then pointed it at her. ‘I don’t do that tongue thing.’

Clarke just stared, nonplussed. ‘You’re, um-‘

‘Intimidating?’ Jasper interrupted, and Clarke had never imagined scales could look hopeful, or anything at all really. ‘Awe-inspiring?’

‘Tiny.’ She said flatly, and the green one laughed.

‘Of course! We’re travel-sized for your convenience.’

Jasper bounced up, and patted Sky on her silky nose. ‘Besides, if we were our real size, your cow here would die of fright.’

Clarke also did not know that horses could neigh so menacingly.

‘My’- the green one coughed- ‘ _our_ powers are beyond your mortal imagination. For instance, my eyes can see straaaaight through your armour.’

She slapped him, automatic. _No one said she couldn’t fight her_ own _battles_.

‘Alright, that’s it!’ Jasper cried, ignoring his partner’s attempts to calm him. ‘Dishonour! Dishonour on your whole family! Dishonour on you, dishonour on your cow-‘

‘Stop!’ Clarke realised she’d spoken at the same time as the other _dragon_ , and they exchanged a look. She tried to ignore the weirdness of the whole thing, and almost didn’t fail. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ She looked down, hating the swell of fear climbing her spine like vines trying to tear her down. ‘I’m just nervous. I’ve never done this before.’

‘Then you’re going to have to trust us,’ the green one encouraged softly. ‘I’m Monty.’

‘And don’t you slap me no more!’ Jasper warned, and despite herself, Clarke tried not to smile.

They must have taken her poorly disguised smile for assent, because Monty patted her lightly on the arm and Jasper clapped his hands- _paws? claws?-_ together.

‘Okey-dokey, let’s get this show on the road! Monty, get the bags’- Monty did nothing that Clarke could see- ‘let’s move it, Heifer.’

Sky snorted, and all Clarke could think was that she was probably the most sane one of them all.

 

* * *

 

Clarke liked to think of herself as the kind of girl- _boy_ \- who didn’t get intimidated easily, but she had to admit that the camp that she strolled into- hips casually held low, posture ostentatiously slouching, with Monty and Jasper tucked into the cavernous spaces beneath her shoulder pads and offering not-so-helpful advice on her ‘man-walk’- was probably the most intimidating place she’d ever seen.

It wasn’t the endless tents, Arkadian flags fluttering madly in the cool breeze, or the discordant chimes of swords against swords, or the vaguely _un-clean_ smell that seemed to permeate everywhere.

If anything, it was the laughter.

She could hear men chattering everywhere, and while that in itself wasn’t exactly a new thing, the lack of any kind of female lilt layering it sent nervous skitters down the length of her spine.

Still, she walked through the place like she owned it, head held high like her mother had taught her.

(She never imagined she could be so inordinately grateful to Abby for all her griping about _presence_.)

One man was curled uncomfortably under his tent flaps, frowning as he picked at his own toenails with grubby fingers. Another rubbed at a stain on his shirt with a giant blob of spittle. Clarke tried not to see the one she thought was picking his nose.

‘They’re _disgusting_ ,’ she murmured, and resisted squirming as Jasper and Monty fidgeted.

‘They’re _men_ ,’ Monty clarified. ‘And you’re going to have to act just like them so pay attention.’

‘This tattoo will protect me from harm,’ one guy announced, shaggy haired and dirty but sharp-eyed, proudly flexing some ink on his bicep that looked alarmingly like Jasper.

Before she even blinked, he was jack-knifing backwards as another guy in a worn beanie hat punched him neatly in the stomach.

‘I hope you can get your money back,’ he drawled drily, and Clarke smothered a grin.

‘You’ve got this,’ Monty whispered against her ear, and Clarke resisting rolling her eyes because she most definitely did _not_ have it. ‘Be tough.’

‘Punch him,’ Jasper suggested, and Clarke followed his direction to a very tall, very muscled, very tattooed man stood to her left, looking imposing and more warrior-esque than Clarke thought she’d ever be. ‘It’s how men say hello.’

Before she could think about it, she curled her fingers- thankfully calloused from helping out at home- into a fist her father would be proud of, and slammed it into the man’s flank.

With an _ooft_ , he stumbled forward, not far enough for Clarke’s pride, but far enough to stumble into the beanie guy.

‘Now slap him on the behind; they like that,’ Jasper encouraged, and Clarke- reluctantly- complied.

This time her hit had next to no effect, until the guy spun round, glaring. ‘Do that again,’ he threatened, his voice effortlessly scary, ‘and I’ll hit you so hard, it’ll make your ancestors dizzy.’

‘Nice,’ she heard Monty congratulate quietly, and she resisted the urge to shake them off.

‘Lincoln,’ the beanie guy warned darkly, and the tattooed man backed slowly out of Clarke’s way, never taking his eyes off her face. She was, at the very least, grateful that no one seemed suspicious. ‘Save it for Murphy.’

The tattooed guy moved off, flexing his biceps. ‘Ah, you aren’t worth my time.’ Clarke turned away. ‘Chicken boy.’

She tensed, but before she could react Jasper- _stupid Jasper_ \- was shouting: ‘Chicken boy!’ Her heart sank all the way to her muddy boots. ‘Say that to my face, you limp noodle!’

Clarke barely had time to think _boys have stupid insults_ before he was on her. She ducked to avoid his swing, and felt her stomach twist mildly guiltily when she heard his fist connect with someone else behind her.

‘Oh, sorry Murphy,’ the tattooed guy said, his voice too flat to hold any real apology. Clarke crawled out of the way in time to see Murphy- the guy with the not-so-invincible tattoo, launch himself at his offender, only to miss him and barrel into beanie-guy.

It was a joke, really, but Clarke hurried away all the same, Jasper cheering in her ear in time with Monty’s groans.

‘Over there!’ she heard one of them- she couldn’t tell which in the fracas- shout, and suddenly all three of them were thundering towards her. She turned to run and tripped headlong into someone stood beside her, who just so happened to be stood just beside someone else, and someone else, until there was a domino effect of Arkadia’s greatest soldiers collapsing in a heap in their queue for their food.

Clarke looked up in time to hear ‘most impressive’, to see a herd of impressively decorated horses thunder out of the camp, and to watch apprehensively as her new Captain stepped forward.

‘What the _hell_ is going on here?’ he demanded, deathly quiet but resonant with command.

‘He started it,’ accused the man with the stupid tattoo petulantly, and Clarke was savagely glad when the Captain scowled at him.

‘Enough, Murphy.’ He spun in a swirl of a red cape that Clarke was bitterly envious until she realised he’d turned the full force of his dark gaze on her.

It was almost definitely not the time to notice- and Monty would almost definitely chastise her (she wasn’t so sure about Jasper)- but he completely outdid the talk of the soldiers Clarke had heard at home. His shoulders were broad in a way armour couldn’t fully create- _she would know_ \- and his stance and the hard, angular lines of his face spoke of power and dominance in a way that his sloping frown could only compound. His dark eyes bore into her in a way she couldn’t resist matching, even though her fight instinct was exactly what had got her into this mess, but her stomach twisted when she traced the freckles dusted liberally over his sharp cheekbones, when he yanked off his helmet and his dark curls sprung loose, as wild and free as Clarke was starting to wish she was.

She’d never hated her height until he was towering over her.

‘I don’t need _anyone_ causing trouble in my camp,’ he all but spat at her, and her hackles raised instinctively.

Monty smoothed a hand down the back of her neck. ‘Sorry,’ she murmured, and then coughed when his face flickered oddly. ‘I mean, uh, sorry you had to see that,’ she added, her voice deep and masculine. ‘But you know how it is, when you get those manly urges’- she slapped her fist into the opposite palm- ‘and you just gotta kill something, fix things, cook outdoors-‘

The Captain bent over her even more. ‘What’s your name?’ He ground out, and Clarke faltered. In that moment, all she could think was: _his voice is_ naturally _gravelly._

‘Uh-‘ she stammered, and was interrupted when another man- this one surprisingly free of armour or battle attire at all but brandishing, instead, a pen- appeared.

‘Your commanding officer asked you a question,’ he sneered, and Clarke bit her lip to cut off a retort she would _probably_ regret. _In the long run_.

‘I’ve got a name,’ she said, ‘and it’s a boy’s name, too.’

‘Murphy!’ Jasper whispered, and then Monty shushed him. ‘That’s his name!’

‘I didn’t ask for his name!’ the Captain snapped, and annoyance darkened his eyes even more.

Jasper sneezed. ‘Atchu?’ the Captain sneered, and his eyes sparked dangerously.

‘No!’ Clarke cried.

‘Then what is it?’ he demanded, and for one of the first times in her life, Clarke floundered completely.

She heard Monty go: ‘Growing up, I had a friend called-‘ and her mind stuck.

‘Wells,’ she said eventually, to her commanding officer’s raised eyebrows. She ignored the corresponding stab in her gut and straightened her back. _She would not let her family down_.

‘Let me see your conscription notice,’ he demanded, and she handed it over so he could read it. Surprise painted itself across his polka-dot cheekbones. ‘Jake Griffin? _The_ Griffin?’

‘I didn’t know how Jake Griffin had a son,’ the scribe sniped, and Clarke held back from punching him in the face. _It must be the testosterone_.  

‘Um, he doesn’t talk about me much,’ Clarke explained quickly, and sent a quick apology telepathically to her father.

The scribe looked her up and down, and then leant into the Captain’s ear. To his credit, he also looked mildly annoyed by the scribe’s interference.

‘I can see why, Captain Blake’ the scribe murmured, ‘the boy’s an absolute lunatic.’

Clarke bristled. The surrounding men laughed. Blake turned away from her, dismissive.

‘Okay, men,’ he said, barely having to raise his voice to gain the attention of every man (and woman, she supposed) around. ‘Thanks to your new friend, _Wells_ , you’ll spend tonight picking up every single drop of spilled food. Tomorrow, the real work begins.’

Then men, and Clarke, groaned collectively.

‘You know,’ Jasper chimed, ‘we have to work on your people skills.

‘Fuck,’ Clarke swore softly.

‘Yeah,’ Monty murmured. ‘That did not go well.’

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments always appreciated, and feel free to come talk to me on tumblr (i'm here-isthedeepestsecret)  
> i've already written some more so the next chapter shouldn't be long, but it won't be a super long fic anyway!  
> xo


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